


Circinus

by Enchantable



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, Touch-Starved, Touchy-Feely
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-03-29 16:27:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19023631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enchantable/pseuds/Enchantable
Summary: A series of loosely connected one shots based around beauty product





	1. Eyeliner

**Author's Note:**

> Original Prompt from stagnantnostalgia90: " I find it hard to breathe when you're around me, but it feels like i'm suffocating when you're not." For Malex please!

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because—“ Michael fumbles, “because we’re not kids playing dress up. Because this is insane. Because I’m not wearing makeup!”

“My greatest regret is not getting to play dress up with Michael,” Isobel confides in him. Then she focuses back on Michael, “is this because you’re a boy?”

“What? No!”

This stand off would be funny in any other circumstance. Michael looks like a disgruntled poodle, his curls slicked to his skull and a towel on his hips. To bring back Max they need help and Alex thinks he’s located another alien. The man is a scene club owner. He’s already back in more black than he’s been in for a long time. He slipped in his septum ring and lined his eyes. It’s disconcerting to see himself in the mirror, like the old him and the new him have blended together. He doesn’t hate it as much as he thought he would, but he feels weirder than he wishes he did. Isobel cleans up the nicest, easily shifting chameleon like into the proper clothes. The purple wig disguises her platinum hair. The weak link, they both know, is Michael. Michael has never exactly had the money for clothes and they don’t push the issue usually. It’s Michael whose brought it up. He opens the door and they are fighting their way through it.

“Iz I have the leather pants, I’m on board with that—“ Michael motions to his outfit, “but makeup?”

“We’re not gonna push you but it will help make us unrecognizable,” she says.

“I don’t even know what I’m doing!” He protests again.

“I’ll do it for you,” Alex offers. They both stare at him, “I know how to do makeup,” he snaps under their eyes.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Isobel says.

Alex wants to call her back.

Michael fights the urge to fidget as Alex watches Isobel leave. He wanted this, kind of. Alex has been very, very careful about being alone with him. Michael is really familiar with Alex’s boundaries and this is a new one. Which maybe he deserves but it’s hard none the less. He’s been respecting it, but the man in front of him is a mash up of the man who can’t be alone with him and the man who Michael knows beyond a shadow of a doubt likes him. Alex gives him an almost pained smile and Michael straightens up.

“So, uh, keep it natural?” He says trying for a joke, “got any green?” Alex gives him his patented ‘I’m done with you’ look and unscrews a jar, dabbing his finger in. His nails are dry but he’s cleaned up his cuticles and the smell of Alex and Acetone is not helping. Even before Alex wipes something over his face and eyelids. He feels a press of something honey and chemicals on his lips, “whats this?”

“Moisturizer,” Alex says.

“Fancy.”

He hears his scoff and opens his eyes to see him picking up a stick. Logically he knows it’s eyeliner but he kind of jerks anyway. Which is fine because then Alex hold his chin. Michael feels the fishnets against his stubble and focuses very hard on breathing instead of on the tip of the pencil coming towards his actual eyeball.

“Look up for me,” Alex instructs. Michael does. The liner is gentle, but it’s a fucking weird feeling anyway. Alex lines both of his eyes, though he looks at his work it’s hard to make eye contact. He purses his lips and lowers the pencil, “Breathe, Guerin, it’s just eyeliner.”

Michael forces himself to breathe as Alex switches one pencil for another. Michael’s bi but this is a world he knows precious little about. Isobel may regret not playing dress up and she would answer his questions, but he’s never had any. Mainly because for him makeup will always be tied with Alex.

“How many kinds are there?” He asks nodding to the marker.

“A lot,” he says, “I’m using two. Close your eyes and try to breathe.”

Michael closes his eyes and tries to breathe. It’s not exactly easy. He knows it’s impossible for his other senses to heighten but he becomes acutely aware of Alex’s hand on his forehead, his thumb pressing to his eyelid. Alex draws a cool and wet line across one lid and repeats it on the other.

“Keep them closed,” he says. Michael nods and stays still as Alex moves through the items, “breathe, Guerin,” he says. Michael exhales. Something fluffy brushes along his brows and traces along his cheeks in a big 3 shape. He knows he’s concentrating but Alex presses his thumb to between his forehead, “relax your face,” he instructs, “this isn’t hurting you is it?”

“No,” he says quickly.

“You would tell me right?” Alex says.

“Yes,” Michael tells him.

He doesn’t quantify it. In this microcosm he can tell Alex if something hurts.  Maybe not in the rest of it, but here it’s okay. The fluffy brush dips along his jaw and then fluffy across his collarbone. He is about to ask where it’s going next when Alex leans closer and Michael can feel his breath on his face. The big brush becomes small and traces the Cupid’s bow of his top lip and the bottom swell of his lower one. His lips part in surprise.

“Good, keep them like that,” Alex instructs.

Michael focuses very hard on obeying, he hears something unscrew and braces himself for the brush. But it’s not the brush, it’s Alex’s fingers. They drag along his bottom lip and the acetone that clings his cuticles is cut with cinnamon that makes his lips tingle. It might be the most erotic thing that’s ever happened to him. Maybe it’s the fact that he can’t touch Alex, but he quickly decides that’s not the thing. Even if he could touch him, even if it’s been years since he’s seen Alex with eyeliner, he distinctly remembers not to interrupt. It’s fucking hard to hold still as Alex paints his lips with his fingers and just when he thinks he succeeded, Alex swipes his thumb directly across his bottom lip.  

“Okay open your eyes,” he says. Michael forces them open to see Alex with a weird looking brush, “look up and—“

“Breath, got it,” he says, his voice sounds wrecked.

“Are you okay?” Alex asks.

“I wanna see,” he says.

“Last thing,” Alex says. Michael remembers to look up and breathe as Alex combs his lashes, “done.”

“Awesome,” Michael says, “lets see the miracle of makeup.”

He gets the ‘done with you’ scoff as he tightens the towel and turns for the mirror. Michael’s attractive, but like in a scruffy cowboy kind of way. He plans to his strengths. He has no idea how Alex has done it but the man staring back is beautiful. It’s weird to see for sure but even he can’t deny the change. When he looks in the mirror, Alex is focused on him. It’s an odd contrast they make. Michael is painted in tones of bronze and gold, contrasting to the deep black that Alex has on. Isobel put something in his hair and his curls are defined and more honey colored than he’s seen them, possibly since her wedding. Alex is shadow dark and his hair is straight and spiked.

“Breathe, Michael,” Alex reminds him and the sound of his name makes him look from the mirror to Alex. Alex looks at him curiously, not expecting it since he’s still close, “are you okay?”

“I can’t,” He says abruptly. Alex frowns in confusion, “I can’t breathe when you’re this close,” he says, “and I can’t touch you. But I’m suffocating when you’re gone.”

Confusion morphs into surprise. Michael rarely initiates things like this. He wasn’t planning to in this moment. But the man Alex has painted him to be is someone who can be seen besides him. Someone who can say what he wants without expecting it to be thrown back at him. Alex’s eyes are bottomless on a non makeup day but now they’re fathomless in their depths. Michael stands up and Alex doesn’t move away for once. Actually for once he’s silent. And for one impossible moment, it’s like they are back in that toolshed with Michael’s fragile confidence meeting Alex’s sharp hope. He remembers what it’s like to kiss that Alex, just as much as he remembers what it’s like to kiss the Alex that got spat back by war and hurt.

“Guerin—“

“If you say we’re not kids anymore so what I want doesn’t matter, I’m going to ruin this towel.”

Alex blushes and glances down like he forgot Michael is just in a towel. Usually Michael hates being pulled back into the present when it comes to Alex, but at the moment when one of Alex’s hands shyly skins along the line of towel and skin, he can’t say he minds. It’s such a hot moment he expects it to get broken by the knocking. What he doesn’t expect is the frustration that flares along Alex’s face.

“We’re coming!”

“You better not mean that literally!”

He lets his forehead rest on Alex’s collar bone. Alex doesn’t jump back from the touch and Michael takes what feels like his first deep breath in far, far too long. Alex’s thumb circles his hip and while his hands are smooth and soft, because Alex takes care of such things, Michael can feel the start of a callous. One that mirrors his own that are forming. A new wave of want crashes over him even as he savors the air pulling in his lungs and the cinnamon on his lips.

“Does it hurt?” Alex asks.

“No,” Michael says and the microcosm expands.


	2. Makeup Remover

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Orginal prompt: CAN U DO THE MAKEUP ONE BUT LIKE THEY GET CLEAN AND ALSO DIRTY?
> 
> Follow up to chapter one: Eyeliner

If pressed to name the thing he remembers about his first kiss, Michael can sum it up in a flavor: cinnamon. Not the real spice but the flavor. In a particularly masochistic moment after Alex had left, Michael had gone to the only shop that matched Alex’s aesthetic and found the stuff. But he could never bring himself to put it on. Hours ago though, Alex painted his face in golds and dragged cinnamon across his lips. He made him beautiful in a way that MIchael has never been before.

Now Alex tastes like cinnamon all over again.

He makes a greedy sound as Michael pushes him against the door of the cabin and sucks his bottom lip, fighting to merge the Alex who wore cinnamon with the Alex who tasted like whiskey. Alex the boy versus Alex the man. Alex’s hands are still encased in the black fishnets as he cups his cheeks and drags his fingers through his curls and then kneads into his lower back. Michael pulls away long enough to draw in a ragged breath as their hips bump and also to scratch at his eye. Alex looks stunned and pleased but then his eyes flare in sympathy. He tries to move and Michael puts both his hands on either side of the door. Alex ducks forward and kisses him.

“Come on,” he says, “lets get this stuff off.”

Off sounds good for a lot of things, Michael thinks tugging at the loops of Alex’s dark jeans. Alex grasps his hands and tugs him into the bathroom. He pulls out a bottle and Michael rubs his eye again as Alex turns back to him. He holds the bottle out but Michael shakes his head. The smile Alex gives him makes his toes curl as he puts the oil on the cotton ball. He steadies his hand against Michael’s forehead and Michael closes his eyes. Alex presses his thumb against his brow and carefully removes the makeup along one lid and then the other. He drags the cotton under his eyes and down his lashes.

“Keep them closed,” he says when Michael tries to open his eyes.

He focuses instead on the cinnamon still on his lips while Alex wipes along his cheekbones and his jaw. Alex’s thumb presses under his bottom lip.

“Leave it,” he says.

Alex brushes their mouths together in an almost feather light, chase kiss that has no business being as hot as it is. A moment later Michael hears the sink running and then Alex removes the oil with a wet cloth, leaving Michael’s face clean. Michael opens his eyes to see Alex still wearing his own makeup, putting down the cloth. Alex reaches for the cotton balls and Michael moves forward.

“Can I—“ he stops.

Alex looks at him and nods before Michael can figure out how to ask to do something Alex is so clearly the expert at. But Alex nods and hands it to him, closing his eyes. A part of Michael wants to scream at him not to do this. Not to trust him. Alex has to know by now that trusting him is such a bad idea. But Alex stands there with his eyes closed and his lips swollen and Michael forces himself to put down the desire to tell Alex to run.

Instead he focuses on putting the oil on the cotton pad and carefully dragging it along Alex’s skin. Makeup is a part of Alex. He always associates it with him. Anne Evans used to have rules about the kind of makeup Isobel could wear and she always followed them. Noah’s preference then took over.  Seeing her experiment with makeup makes him feel proud of her. But makeup and rebellion always tie to Alex with him. As he takes off the makeup, an equally beautiful Alex comes through. He would never say this to him but in some ways, he likes this Alex better. Alex wears his makeup like armor and Michael is obsessed with the times when they don’t need it around each other.

Alex has more makeup on so he has more to take off. At some point Alex gets bored standing there and Michael feels him start to play with his belt and the waistband of his pants. To look the part in the club the alien they were speaking to enjoys, they put him in a black top with no sleeves and a pair of leather pants that Alex’s eyes keep going towards. Michael wets the cloth and while the sink is running he takes his shirt off. The moment he’s back and wiping down Alex’s face, Alex goes back to his waistband. He stills when instead of the tank top his fingers touch Michael’s bare skin. The moment all of Alex’s makeup is off, he doesn’t even open his eyes before he pulls Michael back and kisses him again. The fishnets against his skin is so hot and familiar Michael presses into the touch. He’s not used to being needy.

“You feel so good,” he says in between kisses as he pushes Alex against the sink, running his hands down his fishnet clad arms. “Where’s the lip balm?”

“What?”

He pulls back to see Alex looking hazy and stunned. It’s a weird thing to realize but it hits him in the moment that Alex probably has no idea. Michael is torn between putting that in a pile of things they have to talk about when he’s not dangerously close to ripping through the leather pants he’s wearing and risking what they’re doing by making it about more than just frantic sex.

“You were wearing that in the museum,” MIchael says.

“You remember?” Alex asks, looking even more surprised.

“I’m never gonna forget that,” Michael tells him, “for as long as I liv—“ Alex cuts him off with a kiss that demands every fibre of his focus. Michael knows how flat the tin is but he’s still surprised when he feels it dig into his hip. He takes it out of Alex’s pocket and presses his lips to the metal surface. Alex’s mouth falls open as he watches, “of course I remember.”


	3. Leave In Conditioner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Prompt: No one knows about Michael and Alex until the group as a whole finds them out.

“Are you thinking of wearing makeup again?” Liz asks, “because I approve a hundred percent.”

Alex thought he was being sneaky coming into Sephora but now he realizes that was probably not his best move. He’s been caught red handed. This was his worst nightmare when he was a punk teenager even though his shoplifting days were very numbered compared to most. His dad isn’t here though, he’s just a grown man in a Sephora trying to be inconspicuous for an entirely different reason. But Liz is Liz and he likes seeing her. Even when he’s trying to be sneaky—maybe especially then. Just not now.

“Hi,” he says turning to face her. Her silver mesh basket is full of black liners and red lipsticks, “let me guess—“

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she cuts in, “she needs to stop using my stuff. If she mixes my lipsticks again I’m going to scream.”

It’s kind of sweet how quickly the pair have fallen into being sisters. Truly sisters. Their bond has been fierce but they also squabble back and forth over everything. Apparently at the moment it’s makeup. He’s jealous of her sibling relationship, but then again he imagines any group that grew up in his dad’s house would be like them. Liz steals the bottle he’s holding and turns it around, frowning at the label.

“Moroccan Oil Intense Curl Cream Leave In Conditioner?” Liz says, “I know you were talking about growing your hair out but curly? Are you sure?”

“It’s not for me,” he blurts out, grabbing the bottle back.

He really is seventeen again when Maria and Liz would make him go buy tampons for them. He should have just put the bottle back. But he’s come this far and for forty bucks, he’s getting his boyfriend’s leave in conditioner. Alex keeps the bottle in his hand instead and counts down the seconds as Liz scrolls through everyone with curly hair who comes into the cafe. To be fair it’s about ten seconds until her eyes widen but those are a long ten seconds.

“Oh my God,” She says, “oh my god! When?”

“About a month,” he says.

“Oh my—“

“Liz,” he whines her name before she can say it again. She is so delighted though that he can’t quite stop the smile on his lips.

“i can’t believe Michael gets a boyfriend who knows what conditioner he uses without a list. I send Max to the store and he comes back with whatever smells ‘fruity’.”

Alex shakes his head in sympathy. He has a feeling Max is a simple guy when it comes to bathing products and doesn’t realize what it actually takes to get Liz’s waterfall of black hair looking like that. They get in line and pay for their stuff. He’s not terribly surprised when Liz brings him over to Max. It figures going into a makeup store might not be his first option. Max puts his phone into his pocket and gets up, looking at Alex cautiously.

“Hi,” he says, his eyes moving between their bags.

“I got what I needed,” Liz says. Max smile at her but then his eyes drag back to Alex. He sees the moment the lightbulb comes on and so does Liz, “Max,” she warns.

“No, I just—“ he looks at the bag, “I didn’t know you two were—“ he fumbles with his words.

“Yes,” Alex takes pity on him. Like Michael will one day soon. Hopefully. Alex understands the sibling issue, better than he wishes he did. But he also knows while his life is better away from his siblings, Michael misses Max. Fiercely. “I should probably—“

“We could go on a double date,” Liz says, as usual working on a higher plane than either of them, “if he’s okay with it. Bring it up?” Max gets the same hopeful look that Michael wears when he hears a police siren.

“I can ask,” Alex says.

“Thank you,” Max says, “I know it’s for him but thank you.”

“It’s for all of you,” Alex says.

To his surprise Max sticks out his hand. He’s not sure he’s ever shaken hands with Max, not in years. He takes his hand though, trying to find a balance between the gravity of the situation and how strange he finds this. Alex is a hugger. Not a shaker. But he meets Max as best he can.

“I’m glad he has you,” Max says.

He and Liz leave him with a lot to think about on his drive home. He comes back to the cabin. It didn’t take much arm twisting to point out that it might be nice for Michael to have somewhere to get away for a bit instead of living in the top floor of his lab. Making room in his bunker for the immediate projects and telling Michael they could put up another chandelier had helped. Now he steps inside to Michael bent over a pot on the stove, music already playing. How Michael manages to make the space a home so quickly is beyond him but Alex pushes aside any nerves at the realization.

“Hey,” He says.

“Hey,” Michel grins and glances at the bag, “you wearing eyeliner again?”

“No! Why does everyone keep asking that?” He demands.

“Because it was hot,” Michael says.

Some part of him that’s still the 15 year old kid trying to figure it out blushes at the idea of curly haired Michael finding him hot. Nearly poking his eye out seems worth it all of a sudden. He holds the bag out instead. Michael raises his eyebrows and takes it from him, looking inside.

“No way,” he says, pulling out the bottle, “how—“

“This morning? In the shower?”

Michael grins and Alex fights the urge to throw a dish towel at him. Instead Michael puts the bottle aside and pulls out a silver case. Alex swears and grabs it, remembering standing close to Liz.

“You going kepto again?”

“No!” He says, “I ran into Liz.”

The hope on Michael’s face hurts. Just as much as the anger does. Alex makes up his mind and snags Michael’s belt loops, pulling him back before he can come up with an excuse to turn away. Michael looks everywhere but at him until he rolls his eyes and focuses on his face.

“She suggested we go on a double date.”

“I don’t want to go on a double date with Roswell’s perfect couple,” Michael says.

“How about with your brother and his girlfriend?” Alex asks.

It’s odd in the framing of their lives how all these relationship things are new and strange. But it’s a rare time when he gets to experience new and strange with someone at the same time. He’s not alone. Michael wavers and Alex takes the chance of kissing him softly until Michael melts against him.

“You know i can’t think when you do that,” Michael breathes.

“Double date?” Alex jogs his memory.

“Fine,” he huffs, so close still Alex can feel his breath on his lips, “but I’m putting in a strong bid for you to wear the eyeliner.”


	4. Nail Polish Remover

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Prompt: Michael alex and the nail polish remover

“Come here,” Maria says, grabbing his hand.

“What?” Before he can ask a band of dark blue is swiped across his nails, “Maria!”

“See? It’s a good color,” she says, holding his hand up to Liz. Liz shrugs and Maria turns back to the other blues. “Lets try this.”

Alex knows a losing battle. He hasn’t worn nail polish in years but the thing that bugs him more is that it’s only on part of his nails.

“Could you at least paint the whole nail?” He asks. Maria shrugs and obliges him. In the end he winds up getting a bottle of a dark inky blue, telling himself the good memories it stirs are worth the few dollars to never wear it. By the time he gets to the lab, Michael is already there bent over the ship parts. “Sorry, sorry,” Alex says, “I was at the mall.”

“What are you? Sixteen?” Michael says. Alex rolls his eyes, “nice nails,” he adds and Alex feels his face get hot. He’s definitely seen nail polish remover around here somewhere.

“Liz ran out of nails,” he says. Michael snorts.

“Liz doesn’t wear nail polish.”

“Thank you,” Alex says sarcastically, “finally,” he mutters, grabbing the bottle. He gets back over to the chair and opens it up, “this place is well ventilated but i can go upstairs if it bothers you. I just gotta get this off.”

“If what bothers me?” Michael asks looking over. His eyes widen and flick between him and the nail polish and Alex notes the blush on his cheek, “its fine.”

“You sure?” He asks. Michael nods and focuses intently on what he’s doing.

Alex winces. It’s like having a door slammed in his face every damn time. There’s new hard lines to discover at every turn and softening them is difficult. He does believe Michael wants to let him in, but it’s becoming very clear he has no idea how to do that. He’s known forever that Michael’s first defense mechanism is to lock down. Sarcasm is the next. The sight of him in nail polish probably also isn’t helping. It’s messing with him too. He resolves to dump the bottle when he gets home. And to get the stuff off his nails as fast as possible. Uncapping the bottle, he winces at the smell and starts to wipe. He doesn’t take care of his nails anymore and the prosthetic doesn’t help. He’s not surprised when a vicious sting happens on his finger as the acetone gets into his cut.

“Fuck,” he swears, “i forgot how that burns.”

Michael’s head flies up and Alex freezes with his finger in his mouth. He is very familiar with the look on Michael’s face. Except it’s magnified a thousand fold. He lowers his finger and Michael squeezes his eyes shut and breathes in through his mouth.

“Are you okay?” Alex says, “is this an alien thing?”

“Yes!” Michael says. Alex raises his eyebrows, “i can’t—not with you and the Acetone and—“ he takes a deep breath through his nose and shudders, “and—“ he shakes his head, “fuck.”

They are supposed to be talking but Alex is already half on his feet by the time Michael gets to him and crushes their mouths together. Alex can’t think as Michael ravished the spot on his lip where his finger was. He winds up half on the desk, his hands shoved under Michael’s shirt as the alien moves in between his legs. He can feel the tension radiating off of Michael and some part of him might be slightly enjoying the rule breaking. But its a very very small part. Acetone is not something you’re supposed to ingest. It’s as beautifully toxic as the man whose attention has gone to the side of his neck.

“Always wondered,” Michael gets out, “ever since i saw your nails.”

“Your fantasy was me taking off my nailpolish?” Alex repeats. Michael stiffens and goes to pull back but Alex locks his legs around him. Michael hates being forced to do anything and Alex can already see the window closing. So he fishes in his pocket and pulls out his purchase, “how do you feel about navy?” He asks.

Michael’s eyes flick from the polish to him and back again. While he’s doing that silent calculation, Alex relaxes his legs but Michael’s only response is to step closer. He closes his hand around the bottle and sets it down, bracing himself against the desk.

“I feel the same way i do about your clothes,” he says, “it’s better off.”

Alex is already reaching for his jacket and Michael helps him, throwing it aside before kissing him again. It’s that same hard kiss that makes him think Michael’s never gone this far into himself before. Which makes sense, considering when they’ve fucked they’ve both been doing their best not to be found out. He gets his hands under Michael’s shirt, fingers digging into his muscles. Michael’s rock hard everywhere. Alex, whose spent a lifetime trying to hold back his reactions to people, sympathizes.

“Fuck,” Michael swears, rocking against him. Alex glances over to see the acetone is still uncapped. He realizes he can still smell it. He grabs the chair with his foot and maneuvers it behind Michael, pushing him back. Michael falls heavily into the chair, breathing unsteadily. “What’re you—“

“I’m not finished,” Alex says, swiping a hand through his hair and grabbing the bottle.

Michael makes a pained noise and tries to get up but Alex puts his foot firmly on his thigh and grabs the bottle. Michael pulls his foot closer which Alex decides is a fair compromise. He’s never thought of this as sexy. But Michael is shifting against his foot and he can feel it. He’s always liked how Michael smells but this is on another level. He scrubs one of his nails. Michael shifts again but doesn’t move. So he does the other. He only had three more nails left anyway. Michael looks like he’s about to claw his way out of his skin, but in a good way for once.

“Missed a spot,” he remarks.

“God. Fuck,” Michael breathes, rolling his head against the chair.

This is hell and heaven and he’s going to fucking kill Alex the second his foot is off his crotch. This is dangerous. Michael knows his obsession with being stronger and better is a classic side of his abandonment issues. He equates being those things with the smell of acetone. Hell, he equates being alright on a base level with the smell of it. It’s the closest thing he has to a safe place. Something he’s always been able to take with him no matter where he’s shipped off to. It’s his, the thing he can control.

Alex is everything he can’t.

Alex accepts him but can’t accept himself. Alex who shrugs off him being an alien like that’s a god damn normal thing, who can forgive him for anything but can’t get over the ghost of his father. It’s got nothing to do with him and he can’t do anything about it. It’s the ultimate powerless situation and Michael hates that feeling. Especially with something he wants. Now his source of power is mixing with his source of powerlessness and it’s affecting him in a way he never could have anticipated. The taste of it and the smell of him hurts. And Michael welcomes the pain. He pushes into Alex’s foot and is rewarded with a stuttering breath from the other man. Good, he deserves that. Michael opens his eyes and stares at Alex. His nails are dripping with acetone.

“You’re clean,” Michael says and he barely recognizes his voice.

“Almost,” Alex says in a sing song tone that cuts through every wall he’s got up, “I think I got some on my—“

Michael snaps again and throws his foot off, steadying him as he gets to his feet and goes right in between his legs. Alex grabs his shirt for support and Michael grips his hand. Alex’s eyes widen and he doesn’t breathe as Michael sucks the acetone from his fingers. He grabs the bottle and pours half of it down his throat. Alex stares at him like he’s torn between this being weird as fuck and it being hot as fuck. Michael decides to make sure which is which and pulls his shirt off, leaning back to kiss him. Alex pulls back.

“God, I can smell it on your breath,” he says and shakes his head. Michael remembers through his haze that this stuff is bad for humans. That he has purposefully kept it a secret because it’s bad for humans and Alex is, well, Alex, “just—“

“Shit, right,” he says looking around, “ventilation—“

Alex makes a noise of protest and hooks his belt loops, pressing to the ridge in his jeans. Michael keeps his mouth shut as he knocks their lips together.

“Can’t have you passing out,” he says and pulls him off the desk. Alex slides after him and Michael drags them both upstairs to the cabin. He cleans out his mouth with listerine in the kitchen sink and turns around to see Alex right behind him. Good. Michael uses his powers to help him haul the taller man up onto the counter.

“Fuck,” Alex echoes his swear, voice sounding absolutely wrecked in a very good way, “what the—“

“Alien, remember? Power boost from the acetone,” he says, setting to work on Alex’s neck. Alex swears louder and rakes his nails down his back. Michael groans into his skin and goes for his jeans.

“Fuck, wait, wait,” Alex swears, “bed.”

“Bed?” Michael repeats, looking at him.

“Bed. Now,” Alex says.

Michael shrugs and they get over to the bed as fast as possible before Alex kisses him in a way that takes all of his attention. Alex doesn’t know why he needs this to change. Maybe finding out such a huge secret of Michael’s makes him want to match. Or level the playing field. Michael works his shirt up and tugs it off until they’re both standing there in just their jeans. Alex pulls back and Michael gives him a questioning look.

“Bed’s more comfortable,” Alex says. Michael’s gaze softens. Alex rests his forehead against his as Michael skims his hands down his sides and hooks his fingers back into his pants, “God,” Alex swears and goes for his buckle but Michael beats him to it.

“Just me,” he says.

Alex pulls him back onto the bed with him, not letting them break apart as they get the rest of their clothes off. Michael sits back wearing just his underwear and slides his hands down the length of Alex’s leg. Alex tries to chase it with his hips but Michael goes right to the end of it. Alex breathes in unsteadily as Michael easily finds the valve and lets the air out of his leg. He slides it off and moves his hands up to the top of the sleeve. Alex swears as he pushes his hands higher up his thigh. He stumbled onto something with the acetone. Michael knows what he’s doing. Staying away from each other his ass. One of Michael’s hands slides into his sleeve, the other presses him through his underwear. Alex full on moans, pushing up into the pressure as Michael pulls off the sleeve.

“Fuck, what the—“ Alex gets up on his elbows.

“Google,” Michael dismisses, coming back up his body.

“Dresser,” he says and Michael grins against his mouth, the supplies flying across the room onto the bed, “come on,” he says, already moving towards Michael’s underwear. Michael chuckles and it’s just about the best sound Alex can imagine before he wraps his hand around him and he swears again.

It’s odd being on a proper bed, doing this with so many vulnerabilities out there in the open. But it’s also kind of perfect. Until it’s over and Michael shivers and Alex realizes how hot his forehead is against his own. He goes to roll off him and Michael grips his hips, keeping him where he is.

“Just—give me a minute. It’s the acetone,” he says. Alex nods and runs his fingers up Michael’s spine as the alien shivers again. After a minute though, he turns and gets Michael onto his back, “m’fine,” Michael says when Alex goes to pull away.

“You’re not,” Alex shoots back, “does this always happen?” Michael stares at him, “don’t,” Alex says when he’s met with stony silence, “I swear to God, Michael—“

“No. It’s just me,” he says, “I drink more of it than they do.”

Alex frowns. He’s seen that from guys before. Who push themselves harder, who take more shit than they should. He’s gotten close to doing it himself but he lucked into a team of doctors that included his brother. And he’d been stopped before he went down that road. Michael looks at him pleadingly.

“We’re coming back to this,” Alex tells him but lays down next to him. Michael rolls his eyes but pulls him back, “I’m serious.”

“Hi serious, I’m Michael,” Michael says sarcastically.

Alex rolls his eyes and pulls the blankets up around the alien, holding him close until the tremors stop.


	5. Nail Polish Remover

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Prompt: Got a Malex prompt for you 🙌 you know how in one of your Liz & max fics, Liz uses nail varnish remover wipes on her neck & stuff 👀 how about its actually Alex that has the idea 1st & it blows Michaels mind so much that their friends don't see them for a couple weeks cos they are hauled up in the cabin so when Liz checks on them Alexs tells her, then they compare alien sex tips much to Max & Michaels displeasure, you can split this up or just keep it as one, the creativity is all up to you 👽
> 
> Follow up to Chapter 4: Nail Polish Remover

“How did you keep the powers from being an issue?”

Alex chokes on his coffee.

Leave it to Liz to ask something so blunt in such a casual way. When he can breathe again, he looks at her more carefully and amends the casual thing. Liz doesn’t look casual, she looks upset. When they’ve established he’s not going to keel over, she twists her rings around her finger, her cheeks starting to redden.

“Max keeps losing control,” she admits, “he—keeps messing up the power. When we get to a certain point—“

“Please don’t tell me more,” Alex begs, “I need as few details as possible.”

She gives him a pleading look. When Alex thinks back, powers weren’t an issue really. So much of their stuff happened in the tool shed, it wasn’t like he could be doing things without him noticing. Maybe a small part of him is proud of Michael for having that kind of control. The rest of him squirms with guilt. Alex knows what it’s like to constantly be in fear of your life. How things that were an issue when you had the basics taken care of become less of a concern.

“Powers haven’t been a problem,” he says finally, “I’ve never seen him lose control.”

“Seriously?” Liz says, “that’s so not fair.”

Alex chuckles, not at how miserable she sounds but because people being aware of his and Michael’s relationship is still new. People being jealous of it is something else entirely. He’s so used to being called an abomination, he’s not quite sure what to do with it. Most of all though he’s proud of Michael and his abilities. Liz sticks her tongue out at him and Alex shifts his weight.

“Maybe you need to change it up,” he says. Liz opens her mouth and he quickly goes on, “did you try acetone?”

“Huh?” She says.

“Yeah. It’s irresistible to them. Maybe that’ll make him push through whatever this is.”

She nods slowly, her brilliant mind appreciating his easy solution.

“Thanks, Alex, I’ll give it a try,” she says.

* * *

 

“I got coffee with Liz today,” he tells Michael, dropping his laptop on the table and turning to grab his power cord. 

As if on cue, the power goes out.

Michael sighs loudly and Alex fishes his phone out. Michael looks up at him through his mop of curls and gives him a smile that drips sarcasm and frustration. Alex rolls his eyes as Michael jerks his head and half a dozen candles come flying out. Michael lights them and sits back down as Alex joins him.

“I’m guessing this is unrelated?”

“Might be?” Michael stares him down, “there’s no guidebook for this. I didn’t think it was going to crash the power grid.”

Michael flops back dramatically.

“I can’t believe you helped my brother cockblock us,” he says.

“You just flung a dozen candles at the table,” Alex shoots back.

“You got something against candles?”

“No but there’s a camping lantern right next to them.”

Michael holds his gaze and Alex really hates what the candlelight does to him. Especially when he’s trying to make a point. He looks away first and Michael turns back to the application he’s filling out, cracking the knuckles of his bad hand in a way that makes Alex’s leg ache.

“You never lost control of your powers around me,” he says.

“I was drinking more acetone,” Michael dismisses.

“All the acetone in the world isn’t enough to keep your powers in check when that happened,” he says. Michael glances up and scowls, “has your control always been the best?”

“I had to learn,” he says turning back to the paper, “didn’t want to risk being sent somewhere worse.”

Alex winces. So much of Michael’s life has been dedicated to a power struggle he never should have had to go through. He almost wishes that he would lose control of his powers if it meant that he got to grow up normally. Michael glances up through his curls and Alex catches his eye.

“I think your control is incredible,” he says, biting his lip as Michael’s face grows pink.

“Don’t think flattery is getting you off,” Michael says.

“I don’t,” Alex says.

Michael rolls his eyes as he catches up to his own double entendre. They work quietly for a bit, Michael on his forms and him on some last minute stuff he has to do. Michael will get in wherever he applies and Alex knows they’ll give him money, but he wants to make sure he’s capable of supporting them both while Michael remembers his own brilliance. Under the table he feels Michael’s foot brush against his own. He knows exactly what he’s trying to do.

“It’s too bad acetone is flammable,” he remarks.

Michael throws down his pen in disgust.


	6. Calamine lotion

Alex looks at himself in the mirror and takes a deep breath.

Objectively he looks good.

He’s dressed in a navy shirt and black slacks, maybe a little nicer than what he would usually wear but he wants to look good, he wants to mark the occasion. Michael is taking him out on a date. A real date. He needs to get dressed up for that. He’s painfully early but they agreed to meet at the restaurant when they couldn’t decide who should pick who up. It gives them both a way to get home if this blows up. He fights not to feel stupid sitting there, he’s early. But then he’s on time. Then Michael is late. Alex’s stomach clenches in a familiar feeling, though he tells himself Michael wouldn’t. Finally he sends a text and a moment later the phone rings.

“Shit, sorry, shit—“ he frowns at the frustration in Michael’s voice, “I can’t make it.”

“Why not?” He asks, trying to keep his voice neutral.

“Because I have the chicken pox!”

Alex frowns.

“Didn’t you have it as a kid?”

“No!”

Alex remembers his own experience and shakes his head sympathetically. It was one of the few things he can remember catching before his mom left and Alex has distinct memories of her dabbing pink lotion on his spots and humming and stroking his hair to keep him from scratching.

“Whose with you?” He asks. Michael makes a noise, “is anyone with you?”

“I don’t want them to catch it!” He defends.

Alex signals the waiter.

A quick supply run later he pulls up to the airstream. Its warm out and Michael is sitting on the steps looking more morose than Alex has seen him in a while. He’s sitting on his hands to keep from itching. The rush of affection when he sees him is nothing new. The permission to sink into it is. He can feel it now, he doesn’t have to hide his smile at the sight of him. Michael watches as he gets out of the car, his features lighting up at the sight of him and falling a moment later. Alex comes closer and sees all the spots along his skin.

“Hey,” Michael says, almost shy and definitely guilty, “i told them i was immune at the shelter but—“

“It’s okay,” Alex says, dragging up a chair, “lets do your hands first.”

Michael looks at him warily but finally extends his hand. Alex dampens the cottonball and starts to dab pink splotches over him. Michael frowns and watches, curious but wary. A few moments later he relaxes as the lotion relieves the itch. He gives his other hand over a lot easier as Alex dabs the lotion along it. It presents a momentary issue until Alex tugs the hem of his shirt up. Michael ducks his head through the neck. Alex follows along his chest and back and neck. There are few spots on his face but Alex gets those too. He can’t help but smile at the sight of Michael covered in pink splotches.

“Laugh it up,” Michael sighs, “i’m supposed to be immune. Joke’s on you anyway. Iz took me shopping,” a moment later the smile vanishes and he hunches over, “i’m sorry i ruined our date.”

“If you think i’m going to yell at you because you caught chicken pox from a bunch of orphans you are very mistaken.”

“Don’t bring them into this,” Michael says twisting around, “i have to do that—“

“Your probation was over months ago,” Alex reminds him, carefully parting his curls to seek out spots along his scalp, “you didn’t ruin anything.”

“Feels like i did,” Michael admits, wincing as he dabs some ointment on his scalp, “whats this gonna do to my hair?”

“Its going to keep you from clawing your scalp,” Alex tells him.

He can see the face Michael is making even as he ducks lower to give Alex a better vantage point. Alex does his best to not get the lotion tangled in Michael’s hair, coming his fingers through his curls to untangle them. He’s always loved Michael’s hair, but it never ceases to amaze him how Michael goes from wary to completely relaxed when Alex combs his fingers through his hair.

“What’s that?” Michael asks.

“Hmm?”

“What you’re humming, what is it?” He asks.

Alex realizes he’s humming only when Michael points it out. But now he realizes he’s been humming the song his mom sang for him. He wasn’t even really aware he was doing it. Humming has always been something he’s more or less let himself do. It doesn’t matter the same as singing, it never bore the same consequences.

“My mom used to hum when I was sick,” he says.

“Yeah?” Michael straightens up as Alex finishes with the lotion in his hair. He takes one of Michael’s feet into his lap and starts there, “when did you have this?”

“I was a kid,” Alex says, “I was totally miserable. When they had a vaccine—“

“There’s a vaccine?” Michael cuts in.

  
Alex laughs. It’s hard to take him seriously covered in splotches of pink calamine lotion, but the outrage on his face makes it even more difficult.

“Do you have any vaccines?” Alex asks.

“Yeah,” Michael says, “they don’t give you much of a choice.”

Alex sighs.

“There’s no scientific evidence—“ he glares as Michael prods him with his toe, “I take it this is working?”

Michael nods enthusiastically and Alex shakes his head, finishing one leg and then taking the other. Eventually Michael is sitting there covered in pink splotches hiding red spots. Then he pushes himself up and after a moment of banging around, comes back with two bowls full of Mac and cheese. Alex takes one and Michael sits back on the steps. Even the pink splotches aren’t enough to keep Michael from being beautiful, especially bathed in the glow of the airstream. After a moment, Alex pushes himself up and crowds next to him on the steps.

“You didn’t ruin anything,”  he says. Michael looks hopeful and Alex smiles, “you fast forwarded.”

“I did?” Michael says and his adorable confusion is a testament to how bad he’s feeling.

“Yes,” Alex says around a mouthful of pasta and cheese, “we’re back at the airstream and you’re missing your shirt.”

For a moment Michael seems to waver between arguing the point and accepting Alex has one. Then he gives a very careful shrug.

  
“You’ve already put your hands all over me,” he points out.

“I covered you in stuff that shouldn’t go on your clothes—“

“If this stuff came out of you then we need a doctor,” Michael says dissolving into laughter, “and don’t say—“

“I know one,” Alex points out.

“No!” Michael says, “not for sex stuff.”

Alex holds his hands up, balancing his bowl on his lap. It’s truly astounding what Michael can make in his airstream. Though mac and cheese has always been a favorite of his. Actually as far as first dates go, this is objectively good. Aside from the chicken pox. He likes the airstream, he likes the food and he loves Michael—and he likes Michael without his shirt on.

If this is what a ruined date looks like, Alex thinks as Michael launches into the discovery of the spots, he can live with it.


End file.
